


A Trick of the Light

by IanMuyrray



Series: Muy's OtherOutlanderTales [11]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Light Angst, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanMuyrray/pseuds/IanMuyrray
Summary: In Voyager, Jenny says she saw Claire's fetch at Jamie and Laoghaire's wedding. I extrapolate that concept out and bend it to my will in this Ian/Jenny modern-ish au.





	A Trick of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> This tropey, cozy one-shot is a result of excess creative energy instigated by Soloh's call for fantasy aus as well as WhiskyNotTea's current enthusiasm for her Witches story, which I'm lucky enough to beta. Soloh, Jenny's 'sight' in this story was something that ended up on the cutting room floor form my Philly (aka Philomene) brainstorming sessions but I loved it so much I had to pick it up, press out the creases, and tape portions of it together again. WhiskyNotTea, you got me thinking long and hard about what Jenny is capable of.

Jenny had always known she could see the future -- but she didn’t quite understand how her gift worked until she was older. 

It had started when she was maybe fourteen. In the halls at school, she’d see her classmates flirting with each other -- but often there was a third person around, sometimes a fourth. Lifelike and human-sized, light distorted through their figures as they patiently stood near the couple. They never spoke, never interacted with the two people. Often, they would stand close to one person, like they were attached.

She once voiced her concerns to a friend of hers, wondering aloud what the hell was going on, could they see the ghosts, too? But after her friend gave a wide-eyed look and refused to speak to her the next day, Jenny had learned to be quiet about it. She was seeing things, they said. Those people weren’t there, she was told. But they were -- and while they were transparent and misty, like a ghost, the fetches were as real as the couple they stood by.

She could see them but no one else could, it turned out. That terrified her. 

Even on the street, when she saw strangers walking hand in hand, Jenny would see fetches moving along with them. She hadn’t known what it meant, or why when she was at the supermarket she’d see the nearly-transparent image of someone standing right where couple’s hands were clasped. 

Other times she’d be out at a bar or a restaurant or a coffee shop and she’d see people on what were clearly first dates, where each person was using any and all excuses to touch, to laugh, to compliment and impress. And the fetch would be sitting in the booth with them, or between them, or standing beside the table. 

Sometimes couples did not have fetches as company, but that was rare. 

These visions eventually faded into the background, though, and stopped irking her, leaving Jenny to see her world similar to how normal people do. She learned to see beyond them, or to incorporate them into the landscape. It was nothing to worry about, until it hit close to home. 

One day, a fetch woman had just  _ appeared _ next to Jamie, her brother, following him inside as snow flurried in about him and his girlfriend, Laoghaire. The fetch followed him and Laoghaire everywhere during that holiday, even when they were not directly beside each other. At times Jenny saw a man beside Laoghaire, lingering over her shoulder. The relationship faded as young ones often do, and as Laoghaire and Jamie drifted apart, the fetches faded, too. 

And single people... well, it was only ever with couples that the fetches appeared, even though Jenny had no notion as to why this would be.

She finally figured out what it meant when Jamie brought a different woman over for Christmas breakfast. Jenny was shocked by how familiar the woman was, and it took several moments to place her. Where had she seen her before? 

And then -- there. This woman was the ghost Jenny had seen trailing Jamie not that long ago, when he was with his last girlfriend. This woman’s hair was dark and curly, her body slender, and yes, Jenny would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

“Jenny, won’t ye say something?” Jamie asked. “Yer gaping like a fish. This is Claire, like I said.”

“I’m sorry, so nice to meet ye, Claire.” Jenny enthusiastically shook the woman’s hand. “I believe we’ve all been waiting for you.” 

Jamie and Claire just  _ fit.  _ Something had locked into place with both of them; though their relationship was new, Jenny was left with the impression that this was it. 

And that’s when it had clicked. She was able to see someone’s soulmate. 

All those fetches, all those couples followed by them -- the fetch meant they were with the wrong person, their soulmate was someone else, someone out there, waiting for them. The fetches were the imprint of what should be.

And now Jenny was certain she couldn’t tell anyone what she knew, what she could see. Never. 

Though she did daydream about becoming famous for it -- having a radio show, a television show, a website, an app. She could build an empire. People would contact her, begging to be matched with their person.  _ Is this the one? Do I say yes to the proposal?  _ She could run an elite life advice and dating service, work in a high rise, become rich. 

But ultimately -- her sight would hurt more than it helped. She knew the nature of people, and stable families would be destroyed over the anxiety about soulmates and being with the ‘right’ person -- because Jenny had seen with her own eyes people making their marriages and families work, even as the fetches of their soulmates glided behind them. 

There might be someone out there for everyone -- that _person,_ the unknowable soulmate. But someone else could do just fine, too, with hard work and love and patience. Jenny believed that, sincerely. 

And while she could put this in practice with other people, seeing soulmates drove her mad regarding her own love life. 

She didn’t have a love life. Never had. She was apprehensive to date anyone, though others had frequently made their interest in her apparent. She was too frightened to be with one person while a third could be drifting around them, waiting. And she would be tortured by the sight, unable to handle the thought of not finding her own person. 

She supposed not having a love life wasn’t so bad, though. She’d managed. And so far, she’d made it well past college without seeing anything resembling a fetch around her. 

But today was Claire and Jamie’s wedding day, and things were quickly becoming complicated. The event was casual, relaxed, and cozy, with simple decorations and a short guest list. It reflected the intimate simplicity that Jamie and Claire’s relationship carried into every space they went together, only magnified into something grand enough to match the solemnity and grace of choosing marriage. 

The partygoers were all at the reception dinner, in a private room at a nearby restaurant. Jamie and Claire held court and listened and laughed and drank with their guests, and Jenny saw the occasional ghost person flit in and out of the room with the surrounding couples. On one side of her was Jamie, and on the other was Ian, her childhood neighbor and lifelong friend. 

She and Ian had a complicated relationship. Well, that was putting it mildly. He’d been her first kiss, her first crush, and then, as they got older, her first at other things. But it meant nothing. They were strictly friends with benefits. Strictly. When her friends got their heads all in a whirl over this man’s kiss or that man’s touch, Jenny never let anything like that bother her. He was simply Ian, and they were very close. That’s all.

She’d once thought it might lead to something more, but they seemed to have mutually decided to prioritize their friendship, and she wasn’t certain she even wanted more, anyway. Just being friends -- with occasional sex -- was enough for her. Ian was perfectly happy to take the edge off for her every once in a while. She was an adult woman with needs, after all. 

Now what if-- What if she entered a relationship with Ian and the ghost of another person came along? What if she didn’t have a soulmate and he did, and the woman was with them, always? And Jenny had to live beside Ian knowing that she wasn’t enough, forced to stare down the woman every minute of every day?

No, things with Ian were fine just as they were. There were no fetches in sight, because they weren’t in a relationship. 

A few times his leg brushed against hers under the table, and during each toast, he always made sure to clink glasses with hers first. She could, however, tell that he was already tipsy, his words slower than usual, as if he had to concentrate just a bit harder to get them out. He would lean very close to her every time he spoke, smelling of faintly of aftershave and strongly of wine. She knew from experience what he would feel like, his body just a bit warmer and heavier than usual, his inhibitions lowered… 

The wedding atmosphere must have her feeling sappy, that must be it. It made her feel like things weren’t fine just as they were, like she wanted to lean into him, to tell him everything that he’d meant to her over the years, how much she adored his sense of humor and that she loved when he’d ask for her opinion on things, big and small. 

And yet...watching Jaime and Claire get married had washed away any delusion of complacency; she felt things for Ian -- great things, deep things. 

She nearly touched him, just now. Had nearly swept a few fingers through the hair over his ear. That’s all it would take, she knew. Then he’d be hers for the night. 

But she didn’t dare. She couldn’t. It was too risky-- things felt too serious, here. There was a draft in the small room, wafting in from the summer night outside-- a reprieve from the stuffiness of the room-- and if she listened hard enough, she could hear crickets in the distance, the lapping of water. Being together would be easy, as natural as breathing, but would ruin both of them, possibly doom them to a life where she lived with his soulmate while he was oblivious to it. What kind of life would that be? 

Her heart ached. 

Jenny stood slowly, excusing herself from the jovial, sparkling table by dropping the napkin from her lap onto her place setting. She pushed out of the room and escaped into the restroom. She stopped a moment in front of the mirror -- she took two solid breaths, then tears welled in her eyes. She was frustrated, overwhelmed. And lonely. So, so lonely. She used a tissue to dab at one or two tears that overflowed. 

Someone came into the bathroom, and she jumped, feeling a bit skittish.

Folding the tissue and tossing it away, she decided some fresh air might be best. The night sky was clear, the air warm -- but still cooler than inside. She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply, hanging out under a lantern. The restaurant was on a pier, and water lapped at the wooden columns beneath her feet. She breathed in the salty ocean air, enjoying the freedom of it, and peered into the water. 

The sounds from inside briefly grew louder as the door beside her opened, then died as it shut. 

“Janet?” 

Her head jerked up. “Ian,” she breathed, using her thumb to press at the corner of her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice she had cried. She sniffed. “What are ye doing out here?” 

“I could ask ye the same thing,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned on the wall near her. He turned to look at her. “Ye left in a hurry, are ye alright?” 

She took one step back from him. He noticed but didn’t move. “No, everything is fine.” 

He gave a light snort before looking out over the water. She watched him surreptitiously from under her lashes. In the distance, boats bobbed in a marina on the other side of the small inlet. This town was a small fishing port, often overrun with tourists in the summer, sometimes smelling of fish from the stink of old fishing boats. It was peaceful in the night.

“What are ye up to, Jenny?” he asked, cautious.

“Wh-what?” she replied, trying to keep her voice light. “I have no idea what ye’re talkin’ about.” But she knew what he was asking. There was no mistaking it. An unspoken  _ us  _ lingered in the air and Jenny walked away from him, as if that word wouldn’t be able to follow her. 

Ian, however, could, and he did. He matched her stride easily, catching up in just a matter of steps. “Come with me.” He offered his arm, and she had no choice but to take it. They silently walked down the wooden pier, where the boards creaked and Jenny’s heart skittered in her chest. Lanterns were lit on either side, misty golden lights in the humidity. 

He stopped them when they reached the very end of the pier. He sat, his legs dangling over the edge, and gestured for her to sit, too. She removed her shoes, concerned the heels might fall off into the water, and sat beside him. The dress she was wearing was simple, and it fluttered over her knees in the light breeze. 

“Jesus, Jenny, ye’d think I was a stranger, ye sitting so far away like that.” 

She said nothing. 

“What’s going on? Ye’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all night.” 

“I don’t mean to.” She watched the light roll over the water, saw her dark shadow in it. It might have been a trick, but she thought she saw the shadow of another person between them in the waves, and her heart sank. 

He spoke, mostly to fill the awkward silence.

“Aye, well, I thought … ye know… considerin’ where we are tonight...” He rubbed the back of his neck and then, seeming to decide something, scooted closer to her, bringing his hip flush with hers. She blushed. He laughed awkwardly, trying to break the tension with humor, and leaned closer, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I thought I might see you later tonight, ye know?” 

His fingertips lightly traced over her shoulder, goosebumps rising on her skin. She sighed with pleasure, an automatic response, and he sensed it. He took her earlobe in his teeth, sending a pulse through her body. “Ian!” she pulled away, grabbing at her ear. 

He was dumbfounded. “Did I--?” 

“We can’t.” She glared at the water. 

“Okay,” he said, slowly. “May I ask why? Are you--do you-- have someone already?” 

“No!  _ Christ _ , no. I don’t.” 

He gave an uncertain smile. “Okay, then. Can ye clue me in? I don’t like being broken up with in this way,” he added teasingly. 

Her eyes flashed. “We’re not together.” 

His brows rose in surprise, and he opened his mouth to reply but he said nothing. He waited.  

“Ye wouldn’t believe me if I told ye.” 

He leaned back on the dock, bracing himself upright with his palms. “Try me.” 

She considered him. Maybe she should. Maybe it was the only way to make him understand. Maybe he would be get it, why she couldn’t risk being with him like that anymore. That it hurt too much.

A few moments passed before she blew out a breath. “Fine, but ye’re not allowed to call me crazy.” 

“Why would I call ye crazy?” he wondered. “Ye’re not seeing things, are you?” 

She started. “Excuse me?” 

He grinned. “Teasing.” The drink had made him more light-hearted than usual, and she shook her head at him. 

“Well, actually…”

Then she told him everything. About Jamie and Claire, about fetches and seeing them in public, about knowing what someone’s soulmate looks like. She confided her fears to him that if she were to be with him at all, she’d have to live with the sight of the woman who was actually his soulmate, that it would drive her mad, remind her of her inadequacy, her fears about them not making it because she could see his future in front of her. He listened, patiently, and didn’t interrupt, even when her voice cracked as she told him she loved him, that she couldn’t bear for him to settle for her, that he needed to be free to be with someone else. 

As she spoke, his face grew sadder, more concerned. When she stopped speaking at last, she waited with bated breath for him to respond. He didn’t say anything, only gazed at her. 

“Say something,” she snapped, feeling all too vulnerable. She drew away from him, but he held out a hand to stop her. 

“Don’t you see?” he plead, and she was taken aback by his earnest tone. 

“See what?” 

“Has anyone ever been in the room with us when we… when we’re together? Have you ever seen someone else?”

“No. No! I want to keep it that way, Ian, please! I couldn’t stand it if I did see her, don’t you understand?” Furious tears stung her eyes. “Don’t come any closer, I can’t be with you anymore, it’s too complicated.” She stood, legs trembling. She picked up her heels and strode away. 

“Jenny!” he called after her. “Christ. C’mere, listen to what I’m trying to say.” He scrambled to keep up with her, his footsteps echoing on the planks. 

“Don’t  _ torture me _ , Ian,” she snipped. “Don’t you dare.” She scowled, trying to intimidate him, backing away as he cornered her. She itched to break into a run to get away from him. Didn’t he understand?

“Listen! The reason you’re not seeing another person with us is because  _ you  _ are my person, Jenny! It’s you, it’s always been you.”

He embraced her, pressing his face into her hair. “All those couples you’ve seen -- you really think something like your sight adheres to whether or not two people say  _ out loud _ they are together? Ye think something that special would listen to made up relationship names and ideas? All those first dates you witnessed, with those ghosts there, in particular, do ye really think that was a  _ formal, established _ relationship? No. Those people were just trying each other on for size. But us-- we never needed to. We’ve always been together, always, and ye’ve never seen a fetch, right?” 

Her eyes scanned their surroundings, as if one might be lurking in the shadows. There was no one here but them. 

“What makes you think you’re not my soulmate, Jenny?” 

She bit her lip. “I know for a fact some people will never meet theirs. Sometimes a fetch is just a child -- I think that means that person’s soulmate died young; or sometimes, they look like they’re from another continent entirely with no hope of crossing paths. Us-- we just sort of… fell into each other. We were neighbors, for Christ’s sake! Ye really think it would be that easy?” 

Ian smiled. “Yes.”

“Sometimes you piss me off.”

“Sometimes you piss me off, too.” 

He moved his face to hers, testing. As if on cue, she moved towards him, too, and kissed him. He was familiar, and solid, and comforting, and tasted like red wine. There was no pressure; he saw her for who she was. She pulled away, feeling a bit dazed. 

“Soulmates?” he asked, his voice very quiet. 

She nearly laughed. “Maybe.” “Fine,” she muttered. “We’re soulmates.” 


End file.
